Romancing the Nerd: a (painstakingly) slow love story
by BazingaPunk01
Summary: Takes place after The Bon Voyage Reaction (season 6). Multichapter fic chronicling the slow evolution of the SHAMY. Chapter 3: Amy deals with a wound thanks to the results of a study on pain control. Sheldon half-heartedly hopes he's going nuts.
1. About back flipping monkeys

**Romancing the nerd: a (painstakingly) slow love story**

**Chapter 1: About Back Flipping Monkeys**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. All hail Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady!**

Dr Amy Farrah Fowler had lived her life with the inscrutable certainty that if her personal life were to be a desert, her laboratory would be where she would express her most intimate self. Designing experiments was her art: making them happen needed impeccable technique and perfect timing. Finding sense into the results needed both intuition and logic. It was, in a way, a quest towards perfection. Not through the results _per se_, but through the undeniable beauty of her methodology and analysis. But then, as she had learned a few years ago, her focus could be altered. Especially when a tall, blue-eyed and indecently brilliant physicist bushwhacked his way to her heart.

Perhaps against his will. She'd be the first to admit it.

When Amy stepped into her lab one very early Sunday morning of July, her actions were efficient and devoid of preciousness. She threw her purse on a chair, dropped her keys on her worktable, got rid of her cardigan and slipped into her lab coat. She took a few steps towards the electric kettle, rinsed it with care (one could not be careful enough with possible _Legionnella _flourishing in stagnant water) and poured exactly a quart of tap water into it. Then, she flipped the switch, turned around and opened her notebook.

As she underlined a few keywords for a test protocol she hoped to write down before noon, the golden sparkle of her keychain distracted her. She hesitated a second, her pen suspended above her notes. Diving into Sheldon-related distraction was easy, way too easy these days. The pen fell to the table as she reached for the keychain. She smirked at the small mechanical monkey holding clash cymbals.

Amy winded it up and put it back on the worktable. The monkey stroked the cymbals together with maniacal glee, just before executing a backflip and falling back on its feet in a wobble. She softly chortled as she winded it up again. It was a gift, an actual gift from _Sheldon_. As her fingers traced the contour of the figurine, she pondered on how he would have preferred licking the sidewalk before freely admitting he was offering her a _gift_.

Sheldon had pulled it from the pocket of his windbreaker as they were leaving the movie theater on their date night, a few days ago. He'd swing it in front of her, as if he'd wished to hypnotize her. 'You might find interesting that I found this as I was leaving the university two days ago. It was lying on the street.'

'You picked something off the street.' She'd found herself breathless as he detailed her eyes and her mouth with hungry curiosity.

'Are you mocking my safety measures against germs and bacteria? To be honest, Amy, I'd have thought you knew better.'

'I'm not mocking you!' Amy protested. 'Haven't I provided you with incontrovertible proof about what's reproducing and evolving in the streets of Pasadena? I'm merely expressing my surprise that you, of all people, would take such a risk.'

Sheldon had cocked his head, still watching her with intensity. 'Oh. I apologize for the misunderstanding. I must admit I was surprised by my actions as well. You'll be glad to know that I've immersed it into an hour-long hydrogen peroxide bath before drying it clean with disinfectant wipes.'

'I wouldn't expect anything less from you.' Amy had looked away from Sheldon's inquisitive gaze, her eyes attempting to focus on the mechanical monkey. 'Well, it's cute.'

'I am very glad you think so.' She couldn't help looking up at him again: he'd spoken with eerie softness, his eyes now on the keychain. 'It's yours now.'

Without batting an eye, Sheldon had reached for her hand, and turned her palm towards the sky. She'd watched his fingers gingerly circling her wrist, astounded by how the smallest contact with him made her feel in the throes of yellow fever.

He'd spoken again in a husky tone that initiated a shiver between her shoulder blades. 'Well, you _are_ my girlfriend. I thought you'd enjoy it.'

The keychain was still warm from the contact of his fingers, and she'd stared at it with genuine happiness. Before she could refrain herself, she'd blurted out, 'Oh, Sheldon! This is a lovely gift!'

_Great job, Fowler. Right on the G-spot._

When he'd huffed and let go of her wrist, she'd closed her eyes and sighed as he'd asked her _how_ could she confuse the keychain for a gift, because this was _not_ a gift. He was _transferring_ it to her, because the protocol of giving something to your girlfriend _implicitly_ meant having the drive or the desire to seek it, and would you believe that, he'd almost tripped on it and injured his ankle before he'd decided to spend an hour and a half disinfecting it – yes, it had been a complete fluke - so _transferring_ her a mechanical monkey was not the same thing as _giving_ it to her.

He'd shaken his head with emphasis. 'Not the same thing at all.'

Amy could have destroyed his reasoning in five seconds flat. Sheldon was making it too easy. Picking up the monkey had been a proof of intentionality that could not be refuted. But she'd decided to let him ramble until he'd uttered with both palms to the sky, 'I'm merely _passing_ it to you.'

'Passing it?' She'd clasped her fingers on the figurine and pursed her lips. 'Like a venereal disease?'

The kettle whistled and Amy shook herself out of her memories before pulling the plug. In her fantasies, where Sheldon wasn't trying so hard to hide what made him endearing and enjoyed letting her call him _lover_, she had endless patience and answered him with sparkling intelligence and wit. But on that night, she'd been disappointed that he couldn't admit what was obvious.

Amy poured boiling water in her cup as she attempted to drown a teabag. She had read her fair share of bodice ripper novels. She thought there was something profoundly erotic about a man driven up the curtains with lusty madness at the sight of a delicate wrist or a sliver of skin. She doubted that Sheldon had been driven up any curtains because of her.

But there had been the highly arousing Donjons and Dragons games and the charged silence that followed after he'd whispered as he'd stared at the dice, 'I make love to you.'

Amy hadn't been able to answer back. She'd choked on the opportunity. She'd feared her voice would break if she'd murmured, _I reciprocate_.

As his long fingers had made her hand steady on date night, there had been something between them that went way over their mind connection, way over relationship arrangements and other silly things like love spells. She had felt something in his touch - perhaps a desire to linger? - that rendered his defensive rant moot.

Amy blew on her hot tea before tentatively sipping on it. There had been a time where she knew exactly where she belonged (alone), where she was going (straight ahead). And now, as she was stuck in the lab on a Sunday, she yearned to be freed of idiotic colleagues that couldn't be trusted with doing a good job on experiment designs. She desired nothing more than to be out of the lab and getting ready for the brunch Penny had arranged. She wanted a mimosa with two – make that four - raspberries in it. She wanted to be sitting in a restaurant with her friends laughing, where jazz music would snake through the room, where Sheldon would rant against the social conventions of brunch and would want to hear what she had to say about whatever subject came to his mind.

Amy sighed. She desired so many things.

Maybe too many.

She grabbed her pen and jotted down a few ideas for the experiment. All those unfulfilled desires would have to wait. She needed to buck up and concentrate on the task ahead.

She absorbed herself into work. Soon enough her mind was working with variables and triangulation possibilities, and she sighed with happiness when she retrieved four papers in scientific journals that validated her design.

Amy drew her head up when she heard faint cries that sounded suspiciously like overexcited monkeys. She listened for a while, only to hear the commotion inflating to an alarming shriek. She unlocked a drawer and retrieved the magnetic key to the monkeys' quarters.

As she stepped out of the lab, the ruckus sounded more intense than she thought. If the night technician was still there, he might be in need of some help. She hesitatingly looked at her keys and her purse. Perhaps she should lock the lab before leaving. But then, it was eight o'clock a Sunday morning, and she was quite certain no one else was on her side of the floor.

_I'll be out just a second_, she reasoned. She walked into the corridor toward the origin of the noise, her magnetic keycard in hand.

* * *

Dr Sheldon Lee Cooper was a creature of habit. He had lived his life so far with the inscrutable certainty that if a personal life were mostly a burden, his white boards would be where his genius would be freed. He had a mission in life: Unravel the Mysteries of the Universe and Win a Nobel Prize. Or two. So many discoveries to make, so many equations to balance and to ponder on… and gosh darn it, so little time. Anything that would lead him astray needed to be terminated, Sarah Connor-style.

He had attempted to terminate his friendship with Amy, after one hell-raising argument. He had come to the conclusion that severing this tie was absurd. He needed her no-nonsense advice, her unusual outlook on situations, and her immensely enjoyable companionship. And all the rest he could desire from her…well, he was working towards its mastery with the help of Kolinahr. And he hated to admit it to himself, but it wasn't working very well.

On one particular Sunday morning, Kolinahr was thrown out the window altogether as he pestered while fiddling with his tie in hopes of producing a perfect Windsor knot.

It was all Penny's fault.

Leonard-less Penny was quite more demanding that Leonard-and-Penny. He felt sorry that Leonard had to leave for him to make this observation, A few days before Penny had been roaming around his apartment with the gaze of a manic woman. He'd tried to ignore her by keeping focused on the movie he was watching.

She'd planted herself in front of the TV with her fists on her hips. 'Sheldon!' she'd blurted out, finally stopping her gallivanting around the room.

'Move away, woman,' he'd shot back as he scooted on the couch to get a glimpse of the movie. She'd reached for the remote and the screen went black. 'Why are you where? Why are you not in _your_ apartment, doing whatever women do when their coitus partner is at sea?'

She'd blown him a raspberry. 'I'm going crazy, Sheldon. I wanna do something fun for a change. We're going out Sunday. You and me. Oh and Amy, too. Gosh, I should call Bernadette and Howard…yeah, and Raj. We'll have brunch! I've passed by this posh little café with a courtyard. It'll be awesome!'

'I hardly think so,' he'd curtly replied as he attempted to retrieve the remote from her hands. Penny had pursed her lips, and she'd swiftly tucked it down her tee. 'Penny…really?' he cried out. 'I'm not going down there, not even with latex gloves.'

She'd plopped down on the armchair with an infuriating smile. 'Good. Then I don't have to bite your hand off, sweetie. Sunday brunch it is.'

'It's merely an excuse to drink wine with breakfast food,' he'd countered as Penny absent-mindedly tinkled on the remote through her tee.

She'd huffed. 'Bubbly and eggs AND Hollandaise sauce are decadent and totally enjoyable. You should try it sometimes. Like this Sunday.'

'No, thank you.' Sheldon had brought himself to the edge of the couch. 'I will not be trying brunch on Sunday because I'll be eating a sensible breakfast of cream of wheat, fruit and yogurt.'

This statement, of course, had lead Penny to pound on his door Sunday morning, requesting for him to 'drag his ass' (her words) out of the apartment after knotting a tie around his neck. The worst was that Amy wouldn't be there. She would have cheered him with charming folksy tales about cultural habits and perhaps, if she had been feeling particularly whimsical – he chortled with delight – she would have presented him some anthropological perspectives.

As he caught his reflection daftly smiling in the mirror, he froze and sighed. _Amy_. He shook his head at his reflection before running the comb through his hair. Things were both so simple and complicated with her. Simple, because he felt understood and respected, even admired, and the fuzzy feeling expanding in his abdomen when he was around her was pleasant enough and nothing like stomach flu.

Complicated, because he had no idea what went through her mind, like on date night perhaps, when he had gifted her with the monkey.

Sheldon reached for his toothbrush. Admitting it had been a gift would have been a terrible mistake. He had hoped she'd understand. Amy excelled at reading between the lines, and he had recently begun to understand how it made her brilliant, and by consequence, formidably dangerous. It would have provoked unnecessary tension. She would have perceived his gesture as a form of cultural offering pressuring her into answering with sexualized behavior, thus pushing her to express her interest in coitus in an inopportune moment.

He didn't want to mislead Amy Farrah Fowler. He wanted –

'Sheldon, get out!' Penny cried out as she knocked on the bathroom door. 'We're going to be late!'

He rinsed his mouth before spitting in the sink. 'Can't a man brush his teeth?'

'All right, all right. Make it quick.'

'I will not make it quick. Dental hygiene requires a deft touch.' He gargled for thirty seconds before spitting back in the sink. He wanted to tell Amy he often felt like a mechanical monkey when he was around her. She had a way of winding him up until he became overwhelmed with – hippies would say _feelings_, he wasn't so sure the word was appropriate – and he couldn't deal with it. The need to jump away from her consumed him. Afterwards he'd stand there slightly shaking, unable to look into her eyes, troubled and ashamed by his cowardice.

He dabbed his mouth with a fresh towel and walked to the door. Penny broadly smiled when he opened it. 'Look at you…Looking sharp, sweetie.'

'Thank you.' He nodded in her direction. 'You look appropriate for a drunken breakfast.'

Penny chewed on her lips before she opted for the high road as she followed him in the apartment. 'Wow, ok. Hum. I wanted to thank you.'

Sheldon spun around, his windbreaker neatly folded on his arm. 'Why?'

'For doing this.' Her lips curved into a sad little smile. 'I can't be around here today. I miss Leonard so much…I mean, it's harder on Sundays. We used to stay in bed a bit, have coffee, do the crossword puzzle together, you know-'

'Yes, I do know. I _was_ looking forward to a Sunday morning without having to wear my noise-canceling headphones,' he said as he whisked away a lint from his shirt.

'I'm sure you, of all people, can understand this, Sheldon.' He frowned as he watched her nose reddening and her eyes filling up with tears. She cleared her throat before shrugging. 'It was, like, our _routine_. It made me feel safe. It made me feel so happy. You know what I mean, do you?'

Sheldon licked his lips. The memory of a recent text message from Amy slithered its way to his conscience.

_Can't make it for brunch this Sunday_

_Got so much work_

_Talk to you later?_

'Yes.' Sheldon handed her a tissue. 'I know exactly what you mean, Penny.'

* * *

A/N It's been so long since I've written anything. I've found myself in the throes of Shamy fever! I hope you enjoy this story. Thanks for reading and reviewing if you find yourself in a generous mood!


	2. About the Delicate and Cool Cooper Touch

**Chapter 2: About the Delicate and Cool Cooper Touch**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. All hail Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady!**

It wasn't enough that Penny sniffed through the first five minutes of the car ride – Sheldon pointedly looked out of the passenger's window to avoid her the obvious embarrassment of a stare (and he hoped to be spared of the uncomely sight of tears or, heaven forbids, _snot_) – but she'd also stuck a pink Post-it to hide the check engine light. He puckered up, displeased. She'd written in her bubbly and childish script, _Hi Sheldon!_ with a heart-shaped dot on the i.

She was obviously on the brink of insanity.

Penny drummed on the wheel with the tips of her fingers. 'I'm ok, Sheldon. You can stop avoiding me. Talk to me, sweetie.'

'All right.' He wiggled on his seat. Penny had told the truth: if her eyes were still watery and swollen, she was thankfully snot-free.

Their eyes met when she gave him a sideway look. 'I wasn't able to speak with Amy last week. She texted me she couldn't make it for brunch, and she's been awfully quiet since then. Do you know why?'

Sheldon shrugged. 'She's been quite busy with redefining the entire methodology of a new study. She told me there was a lot of money at stake. She couldn't allow losing a research grant because of the idiocy of a neuropsychologist. A neuro_psychologist_,' he repeated with a hint of derision. Amy would have told him she'd been collaborating on a project with a pet amoeba he'd have told her she had a better shot at the grant. 'Can you imagine that?'

'I'm guessing you're not expecting an answer from me.'

'Of course. It _was_ a rhetorical question. But Amy did find time this morning to text me her word of the day.' He reached for his phone and chuckled as he browsed through her last text messages. It was a good one, even if he thought it was quite rebellious. 'Ah, there it is… Amy, you obstreperous woman.'

'Obstetrical? Hm. Whatever.' Penny smacked her lips. 'But she made time for your date night, right?'

He scoffed. 'Of course she made time for date night. Why wouldn't she? It's an integral part of the relationship agreement. Amy understanding the importance of abiding to the rules truly makes her a woman of exception.'

'Mmm.' Penny changed lanes without signaling first, and Sheldon fiercely grabbed onto his seat. 'And your door closed for an hour the night we played D & D… Was that in the relationship agreement, too?'

_Drat._ Sheldon sharply inhaled. This would have to be handled with the delicate and cool Cooper touch. 'No.' His left eyelid twitched. 'It wasn't.'

'Interesting.' Penny was nodding as she applied the breaks a tad too bluntly to Sheldon's taste. 'So, we could say that the Shamy has broken the relationship agreement and has begun to – how shall I say this? – improvise.'

'No, Penny.' He shook his head. His hands felt sweaty all of a sudden. He wiped his palms on his chinos with great care. 'The Shamy - I mean, _Amy and I_ - do not improvise. We play every game by the rules.'

'Sure you do.' Penny rolled her eyes and chuckled. 'We're almost there.'

'Good. I'm hungry.'_ Delicate and cool, yes siree._ He relaxed a bit, as much as one could unwind in a car, which may or may not experience engine failure, while being driven by a reckless woman in high heels and sporting purple nail polish. He fondly thought of Amy with her sensible shoes and her no-nonsense manicure. She really did understand the precariousness of driving.

'Wait a second, mister.' Penny drew a finger in the air as if she requested the permission to speak. 'Did you just say you guys played the game _by the rules_?'

'Keep your hands on the wheel!' he wailed. 'Of course! What would be the purpose of the game if one would not play-'

'_By the rules_. Oh my God.' She clutched the wheel. 'Oh my God. You played out the freakin' love spell! With us in the next room! Oh my-'

'Penny!' he cried out. She sure looked as if she was about to hyperventilate. He trusted he was about to do the same, or so he hoped. He never wished so hard to faint. 'Are you having an asthma attack? Stop the car right now!'

'Oooh my God. OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod,' she shrieked while pounding the wheel, before she administered him a resounding slap on the knee. 'OH MY FREAKIN' GOD! Please tell me you didn't say anything weird to her,' she pressed on with sudden seriousness. 'Please tell me you used every suggestion contained in chapter five of the book we gave you.'

'What?' he croaked. The situation was slipping away from the delicate and cool Cooper touch at light speed. 'But I thought chapter three was more appropriate for-'

'CHAPTER THREE! Chapter three is so totally awesome, sweetie!'' She was beside herself with joy. Sheldon held on to the assist grip on the car door, fearing for his life. In retrospect, it was a good intuition. A second later Penny applied the breaks so brutally he had to throw his hands forward to the dashboard.

He was about to lash out at her when she grabbed his arm. 'I hope you didn't ruin it for Amy by pulling some freaky sexual Star Trek crap on her.'

'What- NO!' Introducing Amy to the burning heat of Vulcan eroticism wouldn't have been in the spirit of the game. His voice sounded shaky and high-pitched to his ears as he attempted so save his sorry behind. 'Good Lord, Penny. What do you think happened in there? We merely played Dungeons and Dragons.'

'Yeah sure… Deny chapter three all you want, your ears are bright red. Oh Amy, you secretive little minx. Ha! She hasn't said a thing to me, or to Bernadette.' Penny sounded cranky to Sheldon now that she was about to park the car. 'We'll remedy to that, mark my words.'

After a heated argument about confidentiality where Sheldon threatened to 1) leave, 2) carjack her vehicle to drive himself home at the risk of killing half the population of Pasadena and most importantly _himself_, and 3) render the Internet connection completely unusable for her Skyped coitus sessions with Leonard ('There is something more to Internet than sex, but then you wouldn't know!'), Penny finally relented and agreed to keep her mouth shut for the time being. She, however, took their newfound truce for some sort of an invitation to suspend herself at his arm as they walked into the café.

'I did not invite you to touch me. I'm not a walking stick.'

'Yeah, yeah, Mister Chapter Three. Keep walking.'

To Sheldon's chagrin, the café's ambiance could indeed be qualified as warm despite the pandemonium of voices and laughter. Since that intimate game of Donjons and Dragons – and its recent recollection of it - left him dizzy and troubled, he had been noticing that half the population of Pasadena seemed to be fondling the other half, and it had been driving him increasingly irritable. This observation proved true as soon as he stepped in the café's main room.

To his left, a fair-haired woman was tracing what looked to him like Upsilon on the hand of her companion. In plain sight. What was she trying to do? To kill him with laughter?

'Seriously… Upsilon?' he grumbled at her as he passed by her table. The woman shot her head up at him, a surprised expression on her features. He sharply pointed her hand with his chin. 'Quite silly, if you ask me. If you're hoping to engage in coitus, you should try Alpha.'

Alpha was more… He shifted his weight from one leg to the other as Penny spoke to the hostess. _Carnal_ was the only word popping to mind. Upsilon just felt cheap.

The fair-headed woman stared at him with eyes wide as saucers. 'Wha-'

'Sheldon.' Penny grabbed him by the elbow. 'Sorry, miss,' she chortled with a radiant smile. She leaned into him with her teeth clenched. 'Don't scare the customers away, sweetie.'

There was also this couple along the wall. An unshaven, primal-looking male was whispering something into his female's ear, his right hand sliding under the table to – to do what, exactly? To straighten her (awfully) short skirt? To grope her knees? Who in their right mind would want to fondle knees?

Sheldon shivered. He could grasp - so to speak – the reality of the impulses feeding the desire of a lesser man. Of course, this behavioral response wasn't one bit rational, but there was an evolutionary mean to it, and he had grudgingly accepted Amy's well-substantiated explanation about it. When she had suggested she liked holding his hand as the only reason for touching him, he'd reminded her that scientific rigor wasn't for dogs.

So maybe he'd made her work overtime to back it up with actual science, but he was secretly amazed with what she'd came up with. If in turn, he were to touch willingly anything of hers for an intimate purpose (and he'd been wrestling with the idea at night when counting Catwomen just wouldn't do), he would definitely go for her ankles.

Since the beginning of their relationship, Amy had been a precious companion. He'd thought of her as a brainy scientific army tank to his elfish, airy and flowing genius: she was earthy, disciplined, and plowed through bad science and nitwitted social conventions with an energy that commanded respect.

He couldn't think this way anymore one night she was climbing the stairs before him.

Amy the tank had exquisite ankles. Both of her lateral malleoli looked like miniature mountains, some itsy-bitsy versions of Mount Vesuvius, his favorite European volcano. (A volcano that blew up an entire city in a single eruption was indeed worthy of his awe.) The powerful, single-minded Amy Farrah Fowler had become a complicated and intricate piece of neurobiochemical wonder with endearing appendages.

Also, the density of her backside highly intrigued him. Density equals mass divided by volume, everyone and their cat knew that. But assessing the volume of Amy's buttocks through her clothing had proven a challenge so far. He only had a general spatiotemporal memory as well as a permanent feeling of warmth in his right hand to help him do the math.

Disciplining her had been such a bad idea. He was struggling with a childish formula with no definitive results to assess.

The Borg had it right all along. Resistance was indeed futile. Amy was in fact a virus slowly invading his autonomic nervous system, provoking all sorts of heat surges and – he swallowed with difficulty as Raj waved at him from a table in the back of the café – untimely vasodilatations. Carefully, he readjusted the windbreaker on his arm. He feared that being Amy's boyfriend was not unlike catching meningitis. His brain was in great danger.

'Sheldon!' Raj gestured him to a chair. 'You look preoccupied, dude. What's on your mind?'

'You wouldn't understand.' Sheldon turned away and took his time to arrange the windbreaker on the back of his chair.

'Well, well…' Raj's face split in an ingratiating smile as Sheldon sat down. 'Amy Farrah Fowler for five hundred, Alex.'

'You just lost your money.' Sheldon shook his head as he firmly pressed his knees together. 'I was considering biological weaponry.'

'Oh?' From across the table, Howard offered him a puzzled smile. 'Maybe Bernadette can help you with that.'

'I think I can figure this out on my own,' he said as he turned to Howard's diminutive wife. 'Hello, Bernadette.'

'Hello, Sheldon,' Bernadette chirped, her head tilted to the side. She sweetly smiled at him. 'Too bad Amy is so busy. You must miss her.'

He frowned as he examined his place setting, seeking for any proof of poor scrubbing. 'You're mistaken. I don't miss Amy. I never miss her.'

'Sheldon!' Bernadette shook her head with irritating glee. 'That's a straight-face lie. You're brooding.'

'I am not brooding.' He huffed. 'All right, I'll humor you. I don't _miss_ Amy. I _miss_ the blessed era when George Lucas thought he had only three good stories in him. I _miss_ -'

Raj waved his hand dismissively. 'We don't believe a word of it. Stop being a jerk. You're allowed to miss her and it's ok.'

Sheldon frowned as a waiter placed a glass of water in front of him. 'But I'm telling the truth, Rajesh. I have many ways to reach Amy, wherever she is: text messaging, Skyping, using the phone... Did you know that Amy's diction is impeccable even when she has a suction hose in her mouth? It's quite a feat.'

'What's a feat,' Howard said under his breath in Raj's direction. 'is Bernadette tying a knot on a cherry stem with her tongue.'

'Howie!'

'Too much in-for-ma-tion,' Penny singsonged as she waved to the waiter. 'We're going to need some bubbly over here. Light on the orange juice, please.'

'That is one fascinating ability, Bernadette. Would you mind showing us your talent?'

'Raj, it's so wonderful that you're talking to me without needing a drink. Now shut it,' Bernadette slipped through her teeth before she crossed her arms against her chest.

'Fair enough. But before I do that, let's go back to Sheldon's sourness… Perhaps,' Raj said as he leaned back on his chair and pursed his lips with the insufferable air of a connoisseur, 'perhaps you don't let yourself miss Amy enough.'

As a collective eyeroll was offered as a reaction to his hypothesis, Sheldon felt on the verge of clawing the walls and screaming his frustration. 'This is nonsense,' he blurted out. 'Why is this inconceivable to your feeble minds? If I can't reach her, I can surmise any memory of her. She's always here.'

He lightly tapped his forehead. Indeed, Amy was right there… enunciating some fascinating brain science trivia, climbing the stairs before him again and again, with her graceful malleoli sheeted in purple tights.

(And again.)

And her firm derriere bouncing right back under his hand. (Oh no. Not this again.)

He wiggled his fingers before reaching for his glass and took a gulp of water for sheer countenance before choking on it.

'I must say, Sheldon.' Raj patted his back before giving him an appreciative look as he tried to find his breath. 'That was almost romantic, you know, in _A Beautiful Mind _kind of way.'

'Not romantic.' Sheldon coughed before sighing with exasperation. 'Eidetic.'

* * *

'What the hell is going on in here?' Amy sternly said as she stood in the middle of the monkeys' quarters. Her question was met with renewed cries and trashing. She looked around with increasing annoyance. Her wristwatch clearly indicated that a technician should have been around taking care of this mess.

The ten monkeys currently in cages were jumping up and down, then suspending themselves on the bars above their heads for a few seconds before repeating their eerie behavior. The once pristine linoleum floor was littered with feces. Amy wrinkled her nose with disgust. The scent was atrocious. The cages and the lab would need to be thoroughly cleaned. She just hoped she wouldn't have to deal with it. It would mean a few hours at least before getting them settled.

'Enough with this, boys. Momma's not happy. She should be out with her boyfriend, sipping on a mimosa or two and enjoying the sensual pleasure of hand holding. She has a life, you know.' She walked straight to the board where the schedule and the contact details of the technicians were available.

_Where the hell are you, Adam Sullivan?_

Amy grabbed the phone and punched in a few numbers before turning slowly towards the monkeys. She stared at them, confounded, as she tried to make sense of what was happening before her eyes. The monkeys were now displaying a behavior she had never observed in the lab. They hurdled against the bars, their arms reaching out, and a few of them vocalized low humming cries.

The phone slipped from her fingers and fell harshly against the desk. Amy pulled herself together and tiptoed to the cages, in a meager attempt to avoid dirtying her shoes. She hesitatingly drew her hand up and caressed a few hairy fingers with the back of her hand. 'What's up, babies? Why so scared?'

Comprehension shot through her brain like a lightening bolt when the monkeys started hurling again. _Oh my God, earthquake._ Empty Erlenmeyer flasks crashed to the ground behind her and the floor loudly rumbled under her feet. Amy threw herself on her knees and scrambled to reach for cover under a table.

Amy loudly gasped when the lab went dark, and through the astounding sound of screeching monkeys and the pain exploding in her left hand, she attempted not to let herself drown in panic.

* * *

A/N Yes, I did compare Amy's ankles to a well-known Freudian symbol, and yes, this sound you're hearing? Freud is indeed spinning in his grave. While this is mostly a humor /romance story, I'm injecting here a bit of drama. Thank you kindly for reading and reviewing, if you are so inclined. :-)


	3. About the figurative meaning of the word

**Romancing the nerd: a (painstakingly) slow love story**

**Chapter 3: About the figurative meaning of the word **_**Missing**_

**Summary: **Amy deals with a wound thanks to the results of a study on pain control. Sheldon half-heartedly hopes he's going nuts.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All hail Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady!

A/N: I did feel like an idiot while writing this chapter. It's been rewritten so many times. I'm so _not_ a physicist, and even less a genius. I hope this chapter makes a tiny bit of sense. Some foul language ahead (oh Amy). Thank you so much for reading and reviewing if you feel like it!

* * *

_Penny, my body and I have a relationship that works best _

_when we maintain a cool, wary distance from each other._

Sheldon Cooper, _The Thespian Catalyst_

* * *

When Amy was about ten years old, she had devised a plan to escape her teacher's scrutiny so she could hide in the library at recess. One particular bully's always hit a nerve. Amy preferred the silent company of books and dust to the high-pitched laughter of her tormentor. When her plan was discovered and her mother was informed of her behavior through a memo, she'd directed her to the corner of the living room, and made her face it. 'You know, Amy, the saying isn't true. One's true character isn't revealed in hardship. You're just stuck facing the wall.'

She had taken her by the shoulders and turned her around so Amy would face the room. 'Your character is revealed everyday, in every single decision. You can choose to face the dead-end wall, or you can turn around and face a room full of possibilities. I want you to go outside at recess and face that girl. Remember, she'll never be as smart as you. You owe it to yourself to be strong, dear.'

Her will to raise a girl with a spine was commendable. While Amy as a young girl occasionally felt resentful about her mother's lack of sentimentality - after all, evidence have been accumulating for years about how emotional nurturing was beneficial to cognitive development; her brain functions could have been even more impressive -, she did appreciate the value of the lesson as well as the cognitive retraining. Her mother wanted her to straighten up while facing adversity.

_Buck up, Fowler._

Amy usually bucked up. She'd clench her jaws, suck it in and keep her calm until she could find a scathing reply or the right and efficient course of action. But now, as she crouched under a table in the monkeys' quarters with a throbbing pain in her left hand and a disagreeable feeling of trickling down her arm, she felt like she was still ten years old, standing in the corner, her mother about to tell her to forgo her feelings.

And there was no room full with possibilities. It was dark. Amy disliked darkness and even more the feeling of loneliness that came with it. She wouldn't use the word _fear_ since it didn't elicit a straight out fight or flight reaction in her. While she did her best work at night, she always made sure to keep herself in the light.

She let out a shaky breath and evaluated the situation. There was an obvious failure of the emergency lights system, which made the visual appraisal of the room impossible. A throbbing pain located in her left palm with probable bleeding needed attention. Monkeys screeching didn't seem to her like unnatural behavior in the circumstances. Another quick action would require for her to assess any injuries to the animals as well as damages to the integrity of the cages. The absence of the ventilation's low humming indicated upcoming problematic conditions for the monkeys. She already felt the humidity build up: with the back of her uninjured hand she brushed away strays of hair sticking to her cheeks. Another consequence of the sudden rise in heat was the irritating feeling of wearing tights weaved with insulating material.

Those tights would have to go if she were to stay in there any longer. Logic dictated she should reach for the door first.

Crawling out on her fists and knees from under the table, she pulled herself up and walked in short steps towards the door, her right hand feeling around for the doorknob. She shook it. When it became clear it wouldn't open, she reached for her magnetized card in her lab coat's pocket and clumsily slipped it through the slot. Nothing. The door didn't budge. 'Damn it!'

She fumbled as she stretched her right arm, painfully slamming her knuckles against the edge of the counter top. Her fingers slicked against the cool plastic of the phone handset. She eagerly brought it to her ear and stuck it between her ear and shoulder while her hand hesitantly reached for the buttons.

The line was dead. 'You've got to be kidding me.'

If she remembered correctly, the second drawer held a few headlamps. Her fingers brushed against a nylon strap before finding a switch. The beam of light had her blinking repeatedly before she brought it up to her hand. A nasty, deep cut in the fleshy part of her thumb had soaked the fabric close to it and had left a fat trail of blood on her lab coat. It was still copiously oozing.

'Sutures. I need sutures.' The first-aid kit wasn't the treasure trove she hoped it would be. However, she was glad to find butterfly bandages at the bottom of the box. Amy decisively reached for the water faucet. Ice cold water would help slow the bleeding before she could proceed with disinfecting and bandaging.

As she waited a few seconds for the water to get to right temperature, she was reminded of a study suggesting that swearing could release the emotional tension created by stress-related pain in subjects that did not swear regularly. When she'd informed Sheldon about it, she'd been treated to a show.

He'd laughed so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes. 'Oh Amy…You brain fan girls are quite a hoot. As if usage of profanation would make any difference but social uneasiness…or, or, or…'

He'd hid his eyes behind his hands, his whole body shaking with hilarity. She'd crossed her arms, slightly offended by his mirth. 'For your information, the author's a man.'

He'd looked at her through his fingers and had let out a giggle. 'Fair enough. Fan _things_, then.'

_Sheldon_. Amy forced herself to breathe slowly, deeply. She refused to let herself worry about him. He was more than prepared for an earthquake. If he had been in the room with, he'd have chided her for her lack of foresight. He'd be fine. He had to be.

She tested the cold water with her fingers. She'd always be game for experimentation, even if it were a ludicrous one. She exhaled and quickly stuck her injured hand under the stream of icy water.

'SHIT!'

* * *

'I think it's safe to come out now. Bernie…your hand… are you bleeding? Are you hurt?'

'I think…I think Sheldon poked me with his fork.'

'Poked you! Sheldon, what the hell did you do to my wife? '

'I'm pretty sure it was an accident,' Bernadette said, 'but then with Sheldon, we never truly know.'

Sheldon exhaled before peering to the form awkwardly pressed against his right side. He almost took a mouthful of Bernadette's hair by accident before quickly leaning away from her. He was indeed holding his fork in his clenched fist. Something, someone that had been pressing against his back finally moved away. The taste of butter and thyme was still rich in his mouth. He remembered his last bite of the mushroom omelet, Raj asking him if Amy had enjoyed _Firefly_, overhearing Penny blabbing about some sex-related nonsense, the first tremors, the sound of a few glasses crashing to the ground, and his own automatic, well-trained reaction. He'd stood up, and amidst the brouhaha, he'd cried out, 'Everyone under the tables!'

It had resulted into some sort of frantic rush for the floor, and his train of thoughts had been sidetracked as he'd tried to fit himself against his friends without touching them too much. He'd noted that the floor was reasonably clean for a café serving sparkling wine with eggs. But then _something_ had breached through his mind, and he had completely forgotten the proximity of the bodies and his emergency drills.

But now Bernadette was staring at him, and he gulped as he willed himself to keep the absurd thought at bay. He thought he sounded like a parrot when he whispered to her, 'Did I do that? I apologize. Did I-'

He couldn't tell if Bernadette was smiling or wincing. 'Don't worry. The wounds look superficial.'

'You're saying that, but Bernie…' Howard loudly whispered, 'it's your good hand.'

'_Howie_.'

As Sheldon attempted to de-pretzel himself from under the table, he assessed that this had been a minor earthquake. No power outage, no gas leak, no ceiling falling on the patrons, nobody screaming in pain. Not much to get excited about to be honest. But all that glass on the floor was the proof that some establishments, as warm and cozy they may look, had laughable solutions regarding safety.

He straightened up and caught his reflection in the ceiling-high mirror. It reflected back the agitation behind him. Waiters ran around with brooms and dustbins, going from table to table asking if everyone was all right. An uneasy feeling rolled over him. He was the only stable element of this portrait as the world scurried around him.

He thought he looked foolish with his mouth gaping, his too-tight tie strangling him, and his disheveled hair. He slipped a finger in his collar, and pulled on it. The absurd thought that had popped into his mind as he brought his head to his knees under the table came crashing into his mind at full speed.

_She's a singularity_

This queasy feeling could not be shaken away, and the discomfort he felt wasn't only because he attributed it a gender.

Of course, he reasoned, there was so much to say about the beginning of our universe. He was a man on a mission. The nature of the singularity that led to the expansion of space at amazing speed and distance was one wondrous physics problem. Stephen Hawking, The Man himself, estimated that life as we know it would have never existed if the initial rate of expansion of the universe had been smaller by one part in a hundred thousand million million.

Which, one must admit, is both dizzying and, as the Internet lingo goes, totally crazy cakes.

Sheldon flattened his hair with the palm of his hand. But singularity had no sex, no gender. Singularity was a state. It was the object of the quest of so many lifetimes. He'd put his money and all his brain cells on string theory to get to the heart of it. It was the beginning of everything. The Big Bang, as commoners said.

Or not, if you believed in the meta-universe hypothesis.

He told himself that it was bound to invade his brain now and then in an inopportune moment, like other – he swallowed – current preoccupying thoughts swarming his brain. After all, he had fantastic insights as well as the higher levels of cognition to theorize them. He was inching towards knowledge. He knew it.

But his obsessive mind could not escape the statement pulled up like a shard in the strangest moment. The fleeting association resulting still defied the prowess of his mind.

Sheldon pulled that mental yarn closer to him with unease.

He could concede singularity represented the one state that did not, could not, and would still not fit (yet) with the impressive and intricate content of his brain. It represented the scientific Holy Grail that would require his lifetime to figure out.

Everything he wanted to know. Everything he wanted to solve. _Everything_. A yotta-million pieces puzzle.

As he toyed with the idea without knowing where it would take him, he could almost physically feel his neurons firing as they received and transmitted neurochemical orders through their dendritic connections, communicating a potent neurotransmitting cocktail feeding several high areas of his brain, most probably the frontal cortex and -

_Waxing poetic about my brain... Dear Lord, she wins this argument again._

His eyes widened in shock. His reflection mouthed, _She?_

_She. Miss Singularity. _

His mind executed a back flip. Raj_. Firefly. _OverhearingPenny displaying her ignorance as she compared the Big Bang to the universe having an orgasm. 'An explosion,' she'd said while Howard and Bernadette laughed. '_Boom_. And then I said to Leonard, 'Of course, science is sexy'. He was blown away, so to speak.'

Sheldon felt he should have said something. The universe couldn't have an orgasm because it wasn't the universe just yet. He should have corrected her and tell her that a singularity was less an explosion than an expansion, unbound by relativity. It required new paradigms.

Which had led to –

'Oh,' he gasped as he frantically tried to void his mind.

_Amy. _

His brain was too quick, too eager to provide him with an association and some sense. The damage was done.

He couldn't help being simultaneously amazed and terrified by the surge of physical information relayed to his conscious mind. A unexpected dilatation in his chest. Heat surging from the top of his head and rolling on him like a wave, scorching everything on its path, his face burning with fever, the blood rushing to his head.

Blood was rushing _everywhere_. He stared back at his reflection, angered by his flushed cheeks and by the pressing need to shove his fists into his pockets.

_Brain, make it stop. NOW._

Then came the icy cold stream running through his veins. The deflation. The unsettling vertigo. The nausea. His hand shook as he reached down for the table.

'Sheldon?'

He wasn't sure who was breathing so close to him. 'I think I'm going crazy,' he heard himself say. 'It's happening, I can feel it… such a relief. '

'Sheldon?' Penny had a firm grasp on his elbow.

'Amy,' he miserably croaked, before closing his mouth shut.

He willed himself to bring Amy's image to his mind, but another river of icy water coursed through his body. There was nothing in there but her name, and something else that couldn't be visualized. It had floated down from his throat to somewhere behind his sternum.

He tried to focus on what he'd usually worked hard to push back from his mind, some nights he couldn't stand feeling so helpless against the subtle power she had over him. Those images of Amy would sneak up on him. They'd flash through his mind until he put a stop to it.

He closed his eyes. No dainty ankles. No slender calves. No clean-scented brown hair. No sparkling and intelligent eyes. No nimble fingers. No assured and slightly commandeering voice. Amy's bodily presence had vanished from his mind. The vertigo assailed him again, and he let himself fall on a chair as he massaged his forehead.

'I'm sure she'll be fine, Sheldon,' Howard said, 'especially if she wasn't around a crazy nerd with a fork.'

'He's having a panic attack.' Bernadette offered him a glass of water, and he clasped both hands around it. 'Calm down, Sheldon. Deep breaths. Breathe with me.'

'I just texted Amy,' Penny said. She wiggled her phone in front of him. 'She'll answer in a second, you'll see.'

'Sheldon, dude, if you're worried about Amy, call her.' Raj slid his phone towards him.

He stared at it. Rajesh's mop of dog was staring back at him.

'Ok. I'll do it then.' Raj sighed before grabbing his phone. 'Oh, it's her voice mail…Hello Amy, Rajesh speaking. I hope you're all right. Sheldon was worried about you, so he asked I give you a call. Let us know if you can meet us at the park, all right? Bye!'

'I didn't ask for you to call her.' He turned to Penny as he felt his anxiety level rise up like a hot-air balloon. 'Has she replied?'

She gave him a tight-lipped smile. 'Not yet. Want to check on her?'

* * *

'Sheldon, sweetie, talk to me. You worry me.'

Sheldon blankly stared at the side of the road. Penny was driving even more recklessly, but he had no mental energy to waste by chiding her. He had a hole in his brain where all the maps detailing Amy used to be. He needed to fill it as quickly as possible. 'I have nothing to say.'

'I don't believe that.' Penny shook her head. 'You look like you've lost your kittens.'

His throat felt a bit tighter. _Brain, make her come back_. 'Amy's missing.'

'Oh sweetie.' The _click click_ of her car's turn signal was truly aggravating. 'Don't you think it's a bit early to say that? I know you're worried. She's usually super quick to reply, but we can't consider her missing if we haven't checked everywhere she could be. No?'

She had a point, a logical point to boot. Perhaps Leonard had a positive influence on her, after all. 'Anyways. It's kinda cute.' The smile in her voice was unmistakable. 'You being so worked up like this.'

He turned his head to her, his voice bursting with indignation. 'I really don't see what's so _cute_ in this situation. I'm genuinely concerned for Amy's well being. She could be hurt or-'

_Missing._

He pressed his fingers against his forehead. He could feel a headache coming. 'Why do you care how I feel?'

'That's what friends do, Sheldon. They talk about what's upsetting them.'

He hated when she spoke like this. Penny was usually tolerable, but when she addressed him as if he'd been raised in the wild, he wanted to tear his face off. 'No.' Sheldon shook his head vehemently. Something cold and prickly threatened to pop his eyes of their sockets. 'You want me to talk about my – my _feelings_. You want me to jabber some nonsense about Amy with a hand on my heart. I'm not going to do that, Penny.'

'Oh, please let me assure you that I wasn't expecting that at all.' She clicked her tongue. 'I'm so not taking the 405. We'll get there through the streets.'

'Good.' Penny poking her with her questions in a traffic jam was an exhausting prospect he was glad to avoid.

They kept silent for a moment, until - Sheldon sighed - Penny couldn't help it. She _had_ to speak. 'I guess I'm a sucker for – do you know what 'shipper' means, sweetie?'

'Shipper in the sense of a person shipping goods or material through a shipment?'

'No.'

'Shipper in the sense of a person or a company in the business of freight and the likes?

'No…'

'Shipper as -'

'No! It's like, you know, in _Harry Potter_, I really wanted Ginny to be Harry's girlfriend and - '

He pursed his lips. The whole conversation was priceless. What he had to put up with her was a waste of his precious brain activity. 'Shipper in the juvenile sense of someone hoping for two fictional characters to have a relationship together, hence the usage of the diminutive 'ship'.' He rolled his eyes at her. 'Yes, like this makes sense. Penny, I assure you Amy and I are very real and not submitted to the codes of' – he raised his fingers to draw apostrophes in the air – 'shipping'.

'Hey, I can ship people, too. There was a time I was shipping Bernadette with anybody but Howard.' She chuckled. 'So I ship the Shamy with the fire of a thousand suns. Who cares? ' Penny might be an ok actress, but Sheldon recognized that she was truly a drama queen. 'I just want my two, er, _special friends_ to be happy. Together, if possible.'

'But we are happy. See?' He addressed her a strained smile. 'We're boyfriend and girlfriend. We have an extremely well written and detailed relationship agreement. You can stop hoping for us to be involved in a relationship…because we are. We have the paperwork to prove it.'

'In a sense.'

'So your criteria is sex, then.' He turned his head back to the window. A hitchhiker waved at him and he distractedly waved back as the car drove by. 'Yes, Penny, I said _sex_. Grow up.'

The word _coitus_ had begun to bump against his lower teeth in a very unsettling manner. It was the right word to qualify whatever Leonard and Penny were doing behind closed doors and grunting like animals.

It had been proven unsatisfying in another occasion. Sheldon chewed the inside of his lower lip. He couldn't just have told Amy, _and I have coitus with you_.

_We have sex._ Like 'we have brunch'. Just, _no_.

_I sex you up._ Leonard and his lecherous movies. Sheldon couldn't imagine himself mouthing the words.

_I have sex with you. _The word _sex_ wasn't one he wanted to pronounce just yet.

_I make love to you. _Yes. That had been the perfect phrasing: not lewd, animated with noble sentiment, very proper.

'I can't believe I'm about to say this to Sheldon Cooper, _but not everything is about sex._ It's about you guys getting involved with each other. Bonding. Getting closer.'

'That's what I just said. Sex is overrated.'

Penny breathed in. 'Your affirmation hasn't been tested.'

Sheldon turned his head to her in haste. 'You cannot have come to this wording by yourself,' he chided. He watched her profile in silence before adding quietly, 'Leonard put you up to this.'

She almost looked apologetic when she engaged the car in the neurosciences building's parking. 'He gave me lots of notes. I've been learning them by heart. I hope you have nothing to say about your bowel movements today because I still got seven pages on your bodily functions to go through.'

* * *

Thank you for your patience. Next chapter will bring Amy and Sheldon face to face. :-)


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